


Stargazer (Say Hello 2 Hell)

by Bottomfeeder



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Experimental Style, Fall Out Boy AU, Fall Out Boy AU that diverges slightly from canon, M/M, Magical Realism, Mythical Beings & Creatures, POV: Pete Wentz, Pete's suicide attempt, Suicide Attempt, hard love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 14:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bottomfeeder/pseuds/Bottomfeeder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick's the one who finds Pete and yanks him back to the land of the living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stargazer (Say Hello 2 Hell)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from _Temple of the Dog's "Say Hello 2 Heaven"_. I made a list of fandoms I thought I might be currently capable of writing before I hit shuffle on my iPod. This is the first song that came up and I immediately thought of Pete.

Pete’s soul (or astral projection of himself, or Ativan hallucination, or whatever the fuck this is) freefalls.

 

__

_(it reminds him of that time the band went to Disney World just for the hell of it they went on the Tower of Terror ride where you’re lulled with a false sense of security in the darkness with a really boring tour of the Twilight Zone it seems like the end that’s all there is to it wasn’t that fucking lame but then the car comes to an oh so casual stop and the doors slide open suddenly you’re in broad daylight and looking down at the edge from thirteen stories up you barely have time to think huh, that’s interesting before WHAM! sudden freefall all the way down except it’s not a true freefall because the elevator you’re trapped inside is designed to be pulled down so that the speed of the fall is even faster than it normally would be even from so high up_


 

__

_what Pete experiences as he drops back down into his body is kinda like that only way more terrifying)_


 

Anyway, the point is he’s flung back into his body eye sockets first with all the force of a sling shot. He rattles around like a pinball inside his skull, following each curve and bend and sharp delineation of his face (Christ, he’s got wacky bone structure, it kinda makes him seasick and long for more geometric cheekbones like Clark Kent’s), before settling all the way down into his toes. His dubious sense of self then stretches like taffy to fill up the rest of him. His fingers twitch at the soft cotton and heat of Patrick’s forearm underneath them. Something that feels like warm raindrops falls onto the side of his neck but it’s not raining. The crystalline pure sting of cold night air biting into his dry cheeks is proof of that. Patrick must be crying. Patrick hates crying, would do anything to avoid it, hide it.

 

In the end, Pete’s alive because of this:

 

Up from where Pete’s drifting among the bleak alien-ness of the dark gaps between the stars, where he thought he belonged,

 

__

_(and the THINGS he caught a glimpse of up there before he was literally yanked back down to earth ---_


 

__

_there were mermaids reaching towards him skin that shimmered like opals hair dripping with algae wanting to play with his strange hair show him what’s it like to be blown by someone who doesn’t need to come up for air sing secret songs to him drown him with their love somehow they knew he’d always wanted someone’s love to crash over him like a tsunami_


 

__

_there were angels with wings like a starling’s appearing black until they were caught by the light turning green blue purple bronze they were arguing pointing back at him some with judgment on their faces others coaxing him with cheerful voices to come join the fall all of them armed with flaming swords giant hammers battle axes_


 

_there were lost boys and girls leaping out of the biggest tree house ever more like tree mansion to ambush him tribal emo savages in Indian chief headdresses blue-black mohawks dreds soaked with mud and pirates’ blood neon warpaint smeared on faces and naked torsos silver glinting from ears eyebrows lips mouths nipples belly buttons they stared at him with hard eyes that shone with the kind of fire for life only the insane possess comeoutandplay comeoutandplay they chanted like a threat a warcry wanting to fight fuck fly high on a pixie dust sugar rush wanting to crash burn do it all again when the two suns went down and the three blue moons came up_ 


 

__

_Everywhere he turned there was something else calling to him that was far far away from any Best Buy parking lot. But there are two problems with that: 1) Pete’s always been the type to look down even when he knows it’s a bad idea, and 2) Patrick really has a mouth on him when he wants to use it. It drowns out everything else and Pete’s always compelled to stop everything he’s doing and just listen. It’s been that way since the day they met. Wouldn’t make sense for that to change now.)_


 

Patrick is calling him. (And where the fuck did he come from, anyway? How did he know?) Patrick, who he can’t ignore, who eclipses everything. Who has the expression of someone simultaneously enraged to the point of murder and full of so much despair he looks like he belongs on the dark side of the moon ---

 

Hey. It’s _my_ job to look so fucked up, Pete thinks, as Patrick starts beating the shit out of what should be Pete’s corpse.

 

It comes down to this:

 

As far as the whole trying to catch a glimpse of heaven thing, Pete realizes --- kind of belatedly, but better late than never, right? --- that he’d much rather stay in this empty parking lot, depression-filled hell with Patrick, than any multiple orgasm, Halloween-Town-is-real, manna-flavored cupcakes kind of heaven that doesn’t have Patrick in it.

 

‘Cause a heaven without Patrick isn’t a heaven at all.

 

Patrick’s got his arms around him in a bonecrushing (intentional, no doubt) grip that convulses even tighter each time he emphasizes another word coming out of his mouth. The sirens get louder and louder but Pete can hear Patrick perfectly as he chants in his ear “ _ihateyouifuckinghateyouyoufuckingFUCKfuckyouifuckingHATEyou_.” The sound is sweeter than any angels’ choir. It makes Pete smile, or at least think a smile. He’s so psychically tapped out and neurologically doped up he’s not sure what his face is doing right now.

 

“The next time you’re conscious, I’m gonna beat the fucking shit out of you” is the last thing Pete hears before his awareness starts to stutter, like an old picture show on a damaged film reel --- attempted suicide followed by astral projection followed by re-entering your own body is, like, hard work --- and it makes him smile again --- he’s definitely smiling now, like the evil clown that he is, deep down. (The one Patrick knows he is, and loves him for being, anyway.) Which is probably really pissing Patrick off even more.

 

 _I love you, you crazy motherfucker_ , Pete thinks, tries to beam out telepathically with every cell of his body. _No one loves you like I do. No one._ “Never change,” he gasps out loud, must’ve, ‘cause Patrick digs his nails in viciously, like a promise.

 

The sirens swell to a deafening roar and then it’s not so much as a fade to black as being hit over the head with it.

 

The next thing he knows, his best friend is curled around him in a hospital bed. It’s enough.


End file.
